The Butcher's Wife Review

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Sweet country girl Mrrina realises she has clairvoyant powers before moving to the big city to marry a butcher. She uses her talents to wow her new community by predicting all manor of future romances for the residents, but what she doesn't predict was her budding affectionf for a local psychiatrist.


Right from the opening credits, this gentle, faltering romance — saved at the last minute from straight-to-video hell after a distastrous US showing — has whimsy written all over it. Demi Moore dons flowing blonde locks and adopts a hick Southern accent to play a sweet, simple, li’l ole clairvoyant from the Carolinas who chucks it all in to get hitched to the unlikely man of her precognitive dreams, vacationing New York butcher George Dzundza.

No sooner is mystic Marina transplated to the Big Apple than she’s dispensing psychic flashes to customers along with the lamb chops. Naturally she enchants everyone in sight, and soon every quirko in Greenwich Village is queueing up for a peek into the unknown, from the Peeping Tom floor cleaner to the choir leader yearning to be a cabaret torch singer (Steenburgen).

Since most of them also seem to be the patients of the neighbourhood shrink (Jeff Daniels), the man-of-reason head-doctor is suitably put out by Marina’s encroaching on his territory with her advice to the lovelorn and frustrated.

Where all this is heading is, of course, blindingly obvious, with Daniels by turns smitten and exasperated by our butcher’s wife, and Dzunza and Steenburgen — more credible and more touching than the leads — getting friendly on the sidelines. It’s all pleasant enough, and there are some funny small touches.

The Butcher’s Wife is little more than a trifling, urban fairy tale of little real insight or substance